


a dream that you can't quite place

by arpeggioschuyler



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Reincarnation, Reincarnation AU, genderqueer lafayette, major character death TECHNICALLY but not really ya feel, only a little I swear, picture LMM cast not crusty white dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arpeggioschuyler/pseuds/arpeggioschuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slowly but surely, they remember. One by one, in the order of who died first.</p><p>John is first to remember. Eliza is last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. jonathan ball // john laurens

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha yet another reincarnation AU
> 
> pls imagine LMM version of characters like the cast. they used to be crusty white founding fathers now they aren't ok

The air is thick and humid, and Jonathan Ball can smell the petrichor as he walks up the stairs to the library. He’s meeting his friends Alex Faucette, M Fayette, and Perseus Mulligan to study together. He gets into the library, jogs upstairs to the second floor, and sets his bag down at the table with his friends, then sets the tray of Starbucks drinks down next to it.

“Right on time,” Fayette announces casually.

Alex perks up almost immediately at the sight of the tray. “Coffee! Johnny, you beautiful angel, you.” John laughs, passing Alex’s coffee down to him, and then distributing Fayette’s and Mulligan’s coffees. “How much?”

“You’re not paying,” John says shortly, taking his books and binders out of his bag. “What have we been working on?”

“Well, personally, I’ve been doing that essay for McG’s class--” Alex starts.

“Still can’t believe that he lets you call him McG,” Fayette interjects.

“Coming from you, you call him dad.” Alex snipes. “Anyways, I’m almost done that, I just need you to look over my introduction, cause McG didn’t like it last time when I started with ‘listen up, motherfuckers’. When’s it due again?”

John tries to recall. “Uh, week after next, I think.”

Alex sighs. “What’s the date?”

“Tuesday the 27th,” he replies, and only a moment after the words leave his lips, he gets a splitting headache. His brain is buzzing, and his thoughts are jumbled, and he can distantly hear his friends voicing concerns. Each time he tries to tell them he’ll be fine, words keep popping into his head-- _What time is it? Showtime! Laurens, do not throw away your shot. I’m satisfied. Every day’s a test of our camaraderie and bravery._

He is remembering things that he should be unable to remember, of the revolution _To the revolution! (For shame) To the revolution!_ and of weddings _Well, I heard you got a special someone on the side, Burr_ and he hears Alex’s voice, going ‘John, can you hear me?’ only it’s not Alex anymore, but yet it is, because he recognizes that frantic lilt, and he remembers clearly the ink stained pages and bright eyes-- only the eyes on his memory are a vivid blue and not the deep brown he is so used to seeing. And then it’s _Affectionately yours_ and _lay down your sword_ and what are they doing Alexander is married-- but John’s Alex isn’t married but the blue eyed one _Alexander, you’re the closest friend I’ve got is,_ to a generous women named _Eliza_ and oh, he remembers, the _consummation of the final fall._ And then he’s in sweltering heat, South Carolina, and _the war is over,_ and he feels like _he wants to die_ , so when he sees the _redcoats_ , he takes that as his chance and he can feel the _bullet_ burn through him with the same intensity that whatever this is races through him. And there’s pain and tears and _tell_ _Alexander_ and _tomorrow there’ll be more of us_ and then it’s over.

 _Just like that it’s over._ John can’t regain control of his body quite yet, so he reviews. He remembers things he never heard about, and he knows, he just knows that he is _I’m John Laurens in the place to be!_ John Laurens, from the late eighteenth century. And Alex, his Alex, is Alexander Hamilton ( _and there's a million things I haven’t done)_ And of course, M Fayette and Perseus Mulligan, the Marquis de Lafayette _(hard rock like Lancelot)_ and Hercules Mulligan _(you knock me down I get the fuck back up again)._ How is this possible?

His hearing returns to “Do you think we should call? I think we should call. We should probably call. Like, right now. So he won’t die. Can you pass my phone?” Alex, of course.

“Mon ami, he will be fine. If he is not up in the next minute, we call, oui?” Lafayette-- no, Fayette--’s soothing voice responds, and John takes that as his cue to let them know he’s alive.

He opens his eyes slowly, blinking, wondering at what point he ended up on the floor of the library. Mulligan shouts “guys!” and Alex and Fayette quickly rush over.

“How do you feel? What was that?” Alex says quickly. “Are you alright?”

John starts to talk, then pauses, realizing how scratchy his voice is. He coughs and tries again. “‘M fine. One time thing, I think. What happened?”

Fayette shifts nervously before responding. “You fell onto the floor and had a…” they trail off, struggling to find the words.

“A seizure.” Mulligan says. “Seriously, are you okay? Any need to call an ambulance?”

John pulls himself into a sitting position, still shaky. “I’m fine. I don’t know what that was, but it won’t happen again.” It’s true, now that he’s remembered, he won’t have such a severe incident again. He just knows.

“Just as long as you’re okay,” Alex says, and John looks at him. So different from the blue-eyed, auburn haired man he remembers, but still with the same energy. _Lay down your sword. Laurens, I like you a lot. Laurens, do not throw throw away your shot. Consummation of the final fall._ Alex extends a hand.

John takes his hand, rising to his feet. “Now I am.”


	2. george mcwash // george washington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George remembers next, thanks to John's incessant prompting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "mcwash" what am i doing

George McWash cares about all his students. Sure, he’ll never let them know outright, but he really does. (Most of them, at least. That Samantha Seaborn isn't the greatest.) They affectionately call him McG, for some reason-- a combination of George and McWash, because Mic-double-u takes too long as compared to Mic-gee. Except for M Fayette, who calls him dad. However, George is very perceptive.

 

  There's something off about Jonathan Ball. Almost two weeks ago, he came into class fidgety, not acting like himself, and he hasn't gone back to normal since. He engages George in the oddest conversations, dropping weird lines that George doesn't get. He constantly mentions the date _December 14th_ , and talks about _Mount Vernon_ , and George is just generally confused, until one day, he understands.

 

  Jonathan, Fayette, and Alex Faucette approach him after class one day, Alex talking a mile a minute, Fayette looking amused, and Jonathan listening closely and watching George with sharp eyes.

 

  “And Johnny’s been telling me about this history stuff, and well, it has to do with law, so I had to ask.” Alex pauses, waiting for George to do something, anything, to acknowledge he's listening.

 

  But George can't find it in himself to say anything, because his head feels like lead, and he _has to laugh._ “I was just like you when I was younger,” he says, and suddenly the world spins, no, _the world turned upside down._

 

  He can see Jonathan’s bright eyes and Fayette and Alex’s worrying faces as they reach out to him, and _teach them how to say goodbye_ and what is this, what's happening to him? His head is heavy yet thoughts are coming a mile a minute, though he doesn't know where from. _The venerated Virginian veteran_ \--- and he can see Jonathan and Alex and Fayette, only they aren't-- _these young men don't speak for me._ George tries to reason with his hurting brain, asking why this is happening, why can he remember an Alex, no, an _Alexander_ with the same light in his eyes and _pick up a pen, start writing_ , or _have Lafayette take the lead_ and it's Fayette, or _Mr. Jefferson, welcome home_ and for some reason that reminds him of his student Thom Jett. But each time he tries to understand what he can remember another one pops up- _\- I am not a maiden in need of defending, I am grown!_ \-- and another-- _I’m stepping down, I’m not running for President_ \-- and another-- _we’ll reconvene after a brief recess_ \-- and he can remember things, about the American Revolution, and suddenly that date _December 14th_ has more significance, only this time with a _1799_ tacked on the end. And he… who is he? _Here comes the general! (Rise up)_ He can't recall, but he knows he is George McWash, but there is someone else he is too. _The pride of mount Vernon!_ And he's getting closer, he knows.

 

  _George Washington!_ And in all his muddled thoughts, he has a singular coherent one-- _holy shit, I’m on the one dollar bill._ Then, he's remembering-- _I led my men straight into a massacre_ and the guilt is overwhelming, but then _Martha_ and he couldn't have any kids and then _CALL ME SON ONE MORE TIME!_ And he was President, god, Martha-- no, Mara in this world-- Mara would laugh when she found out. Oh, then _history has its eyes on you,_ and _one last time_ , and finally, finally, he remembers something absolutely vital.

 

  _Everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid._ He knows it's a Bible passage, but the significance to him is more heavy. _They’ll be safe in this nation we’ve made. I want to sit under my own vine and fig tree, a moment alone in the shade._ There’s a tree in his garden that he enjoys reading under-- no wonder he likes it so much. _At home in this nation we’ve made._ He can finally rest, can finally relax, and the lines are blurring, and he can't tell if he's George McWash or George Washington anymore, but does it really matter? Both are one in the same. So what, _they are asking me to lead,_ and Washington was President? They are two sides of the same coin, evidently, as George can't figure out any other reason why he's remembering things he should be unable to. And then, again, _my name’s been through a lot I can take it_ and _I wanna talk about what I have learned, the hard won wisdom I have earned_ and _your wife needs you alive, son, I need you alive!_ and he's very, very aware of the cold ground beneath him.

 

  He coughs, once, twice, feeling like he’s been hit by a truck (which had happened when he was younger, though that was a long story.) He opens his eyes, slowly but surely, to a very concerned looking _Alexander Hamilton, troops are waiting in the fields for you_ Alex Faucette, and equally as worried _Have Lafayette take the lead_ M Fayette, and someone who he knows already remembers, John Laurens.

 

“Are you okay? What was that?” Fayette asks anxiously.

 

  “I was hoping you could tell me that,” George says, pushing himself into a sitting position and getting back into teacher mode. “Alex, are you alright?” The poor boy is on the verge of hyperventilating, and he just nods.

 

  “You had a seizure, sir.” John says calmly.

 

  “Apparently they’re contagious.” Fayette mutters.

 

  “Fayette, can you please take Alex into the hall and calm him down?” George says quietly, and positions himself to lean with his back against the side of his desk. Fayette shoots him a worried half smile and leads Alex out, shutting the door. George turns to John. “You've known for two weeks?”

 

  “Yes, sir,” John says. “I was trying to prompt you so much, because, well, I thought it was going in the order of deaths. I had to look yours up on Wikipedia.”

 

  George almost laughs at the thought. “Same thing happened to you, then?”

 

  “Yup. I mentioned Tuesday the 27th, and then I was seizing on the library floor. Mine was much shorter and looked much less painful than yours though.” John says, biting his lip.

 

  “That's probably because you rushed me into it,” George says sharply. “Who's next?”

 

  “Peggy Schuyler,” John answers. “She's Megan Van Renseleer this time though.”

 

  “We aren't going to prompt her. I wouldn't even know what to prompt her with. Just keep an eye on her, and let me know if it happens. I’ll do the same.” George says calmly. “Now, we should probably see if Alex is okay.”

 

  John grins. “I can't wait until he's back.” He helps George to his feet. “And for the record, sir, I'm glad you're back.” He hears the unspoken, the _I didn't want to be alone._

 

 _“_ I'm glad to be back, son.” George says, and they walk towards the door.

 

  “Oh!” John pauses. “One more thing, sir, I have to ask.”

 

  George raises an eyebrow, wondering what this could be. “Yes?”

 

  “Why the hell did you own slaves?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this will be my last update bc my exams start tuesday hahaha stab me pls
> 
> as always u can find me on the tweeter @pegyschuyler
> 
> ALSO: if you're into webseries, or you're into hamilton, or you're into both, my friend and i are making Hamilton: An American Webseries. auditions start feb 13th, you can check out our blog at hamiltonanamericanwebseries.tumblr.com, or you can find us on Twitter @hamwebseries or on Instagram @hamiltonwebseries
> 
> ok byeeee

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's neeeeeexxxxttt


End file.
